


Hear Me

by Arwriter



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Anxiety, Cyberlife can actually die, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotions, Family, Father-Son Relationship, Good Parent Hank Anderson, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Protective Hank Anderson, Suicide, Suicide Attempt, Worried Hank Anderson
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-18
Updated: 2019-08-18
Packaged: 2020-09-06 12:01:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,102
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20291116
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arwriter/pseuds/Arwriter
Summary: Connor hasn't forgotten what Amanda said to him. He hasn't forgotten what he'd almost done. Hank hasn't forgotten what he'd said to Connor. He just wishes he'd acted sooner.





	Hear Me

**Author's Note:**

> Sleep deprived author apologizes for the wait. Other ongoing stories will be updated as soon as possible!

“Shit, shit,  _ shit.”  _

There wasn’t much more Hank could think to say, speaking to the empty car, horns blaring outside as he swerved in and out of traffic. The phone rang in his ear, dull and constant. 

“Come on, kid,” he muttered, holding the cell to his ear with his shoulder, hands locked around the steering wheel in a death grip. “Answer the fucking phone.” 

It kept ringing- once, twice, three more times before going dead, unanswered. And the fact that Connor didn’t even have a phone, that he took calls through his own head, was enough to send Hank into a whirling panic. 

He threw the phone aside, biting his lip hard so hard he thought he might draw blood, pushing down on the gas and running the second red light of the night. 

He hated how achingly quiet the car was, how the emptiness of the usually occupied passenger seat was screaming at him, warnings blaring louder than the horns outside. 

He should have known something was wrong sooner. If only he’d noticed sooner, let himself grow suspicious  _ sooner,  _ he might have been able to help, to make some kind of difference. 

Connor had been acting off for days now. 

He’d been quiet, reserved, LED more often a spinning, contemplative yellow rather than its usual crisp blue. Now that he was deviant, his uneasiness showed more easily across his face, as did a range of other emotions he wasn’t even close to learning how to cope with. 

And Hank, while he’d promised to do his best, was far from the best person to help with these things. And Connor hadn’t said anything, hadn’t come to him specifically, so Hank had let him be. 

And for all he knew, that had been his first mistake. 

He should have been the one to go to Connor, should have checked in the moment things had seemed off. He’d been given a second chance, a space to fill the void Cole had left, and he’d ruined it. 

_ “You’re just a fucking machine!”  _

Hank couldn’t even remember how their fight that morning had escalated, what had made him so unreasonably angry at a kid who was just trying to learn how to be human. But it had happened all the same, and the look on Connor’s face was enough to rip his heart in two. 

Maybe Connor had been just a bit too cold, too calculating and quiet at a crime scene, said something that Hank found too insensitive. 

Like  _ he  _ could dictate what it meant to be human. Like he wasn’t the one who was supposed to be patient, to help where he could, to understand that Connor didn’t  _ know,  _ but he was trying. 

He hadn’t raised his voice at Connor since he’d deviated. Since the kid had thrown away his mission to save Hank’s life. 

And any doubt that the kid was anything but human fell apart the minute the cruel words left Hank’s mouth, Conor’s face falling, eyes brimming with heartbreak. 

_ “Lieutenant--” _

And instead of apologizing, instead of recognizing his own temper and backing down, he’d simply muttered,  _ “Jesus fucking Christ, Connor,”  _ and stalked back to the car. 

Connor hadn’t come back to the precinct with him after that and Hank, still fuming after whatever pointless thing had set him off, hadn’t questioned it. 

If Connor needed some time alone, that was fine with him. He didn’t really want to deal with the kid’s sulking right now. 

But then Connor hadn’t come home, and frustration quickly turned to worry. 

By the time he managed to track Conor down, worry had turned to panic, only spiking as he pulled up to the towering building in the middle of the bustling city. 

Maybe he was overthinking things. Maybe Connor was fine, maybe the location was wrong, maybe there was a perfectly reasonable explanation. 

But any small flicker of hope died the second he pulled up to the curb, dread settling in his chest and squeezing. 

It was difficult to make it out through the distance, even harder in the dark, but Hank could see a silhouette on the very top of the building, dangerously close to the ledge. 

He fumbled again for his phone where he’d thrown it to the floor, dialing with unsteady hands as he threw open the door and climbed out onto the sidewalk. 

The phone rang again, a ruthless barrage of sound battering at his skull. The figure on the rooftop didn’t move, and the call went unanswered. 

Time seemed to slow after that, the rest of the world coming to a halt as something clicked into place, a thought Hank didn’t even let himself fully begin to consider before he was taking off, barreling through the front doors and sprinting to the elevator. 

Everything was suddenly moving too slow, Hank’s heart threatening to break free from his chest as he waited, nails digging into the palm of his hand, Connor still up on the roof and minutes from--

Or maybe he was simply overreacting. Maybe Connor was fine, and had just come out here to clear his head. Maybe an error was keeping him from receiving any of Hank’s countless calls. 

There could be a perfectly innocent explanation for all of it. Hank could apologize, and the two of them could put it behind them and go home. 

Or maybe the computer had been wrong. Maybe Connor wasn’t even here. Maybe the kid was hurt, left to die in a ditch somewhere, convinced Hank wasn’t lifting a finger to help him. 

The elevator doors finally slid open and Hank slipped inside, pressing the button for the top floor, ignoring the way his hands trembled ruthlessly. 

He could hear the hum of the motor below him as the elevator took him up, left to stand there and pray he wouldn’t be too late, that Connor would still be there when the doors opened. 

And suddenly the world was moving too fast. 

Hank barely registered the doors sliding open, barely felt himself moving through the hallway, only coming back to the world when he pushed open the doors leading to the rooftop, felt the cold night air beat against his face, and saw exactly what he’d feared most just a few paces ahead of him. 

_ “Connor.”  _

The android tensed, the sudden jerk making Hank’s heart leap to his throat, the wave of fear making him briefly forget how to properly breathe. 

Connor was perched on the ledge, toes hanging over the drop, stiff and unmoving as he gazed down at the street below. He didn’t even bother turning at the sound of Hank’s voice. 

“Lieutenant,” he said, voice cold and emotionless.  _ Robotic,  _ Hank realized. “What...what are you doing here?” 

The single stumble was all Hank needed to realize just how hard Connor was trying to keep it together, to notice the slight tremble in his shoulders. 

“Connor,” he said again, not sure what else he’s supposed to do because he doesn’t  _ understand.  _ “Come on, kid. Look at me.” 

Connor didn’t move, didn’t even seem to hear, arms wrapped around himself, body wracked with relentless shivers. 

“Just turn around,” Hank tried, careful to keep his voice gentle as he took a cautious step forward. “Please. Talk to me for a minute, ok?” 

At first, Connor didn’t respond, still quiet and motionless as a statue. But, gradually, he turned himself around until Hank could see his face, the kid still balanced on the edge. 

He looked awful. His cheeks were stained with tears, eyes watering and lip quivering as he refused to meet Hank’s eyes. Connor was still trembling, tense and defeated like he was waiting for Hank to grow angry. 

“God, Connor.” Hank doubted it would do either of them any favors if he broke down right here, gave in to his panic and let his legs buckle beneath him. He kept himself as composed as possible, but it didn’t stop his voice from wavering. “I’m...Jesus, I am so  _ so  _ sorry for what happened today I didn’t-- kid, I didn’t mean--” 

Connor shook his head, cutting off apologies Hank already knew were pointless. His words had been cruel, but they were clearly far from the only thing running through the android’s mind.

“It’s not that, Hank, it’s…” he trailed off, voice painfully scared and unsure, small breaths catching in his throat. “You were right.” 

“What? No.” Jesus, Hank barely remembered what he’d  _ said.  _ “Look, whatever I...I was an asshole. Ok? We were both having a rough day so- so why don’t you come down and we can--” 

As soon as Hank took another step forward, hand outstretched, Connor tensed, nearly jumping backwards straight off the ledge, eyes wide and LED a blinding red. 

_ “No,”  _ he snapped, finally meeting Hank’s eyes. “I...I-I can’t. I can’t come down I--” 

“Ok,” Hank said, raising his hands like Connor was just another unstable suspect he’d been sent to apprehend. It made him sick. “But you gotta talk to me, kid. What’s going on?” 

Deviants had a tendency to self destruct if their stress levels grew too high. Hank knew that better than anyone. They had been Connor’s own words, and they’d both seen it in action. 

And Connor looked horribly similar to that deviant in the interrogation room, shaking and petrified, wide eyed and emotional, rapidly losing control. It wasn’t a look that should be on Connor. 

Hank should never have let this happen. 

“I’m...I-I’m not- I’m not…” Connor took a shuddering breath, visibly trying to steel himself. “I’m not alive.” 

And that was somehow the worst thing the kid could have said, and the last thing Hank had been expecting. Because what the  _ fuck?  _ He’d anticipated problems, Connor struggling to deal with emotions and ideas for the first time, but he shouldn’t be thinking... _ that.  _

Not after everything.  _ _

“What the hell?” It’s not what he should be saying, far from comforting, but it’s all he can think to do. “The fuck are you talking about?” 

And Connor actually has the nerve to try and smile, though it's forced and watery, tears still streaming down his face. 

“I’ll...I-I’ll just end up hurting s-someone, Hank. They won’t- they won’t let me go, they won’t--” 

_ “Hey,”  _ Hank snapped, panic rising nearly as high as Connor’s, all too aware it wasn’t doing either of them any favors. “Jesus- take a breath, ok? Focus on me, kid.” 

It took a moment, Hank not even sure if androids  _ needed  _ to breathe, but Connor did as he was told. It didn’t seem to help much, but Hank could have sworn his LED briefly flashed from red to yellow.

“There you go,” he soothed. “Can you tell me what’s wrong?” 

He hated the words coming out of his mouth, the false calamity he was forcing himself to have. They shouldn’t be having this talk until  _ after  _ Connor was back on the ground. Hank should be rushing forward, grabbing the android and dragging him away from the edge. 

But Hank wasn’t stupid. As terrifying as this alternative was, he wouldn’t risk letting his own recklessness be what sent Connor over the edge. 

“Connor--” 

“They won’t let me go,” he said again, but this time it came out as more of a desperate whisper. “They-- my programming I can’t...the  _ mission,  _ Hank. I was programmed to stop deviants to- to kill Markus, and now--” 

“And now you’re free.” Hank reminded him. “You broke through your programming, remember? You deviated.” 

Connor shook his head, the words only seeming to upset him more. “I was programmed to deviate.” 

The silence that followed was like a punch to the gut, the words ringing in his ears like some kind of sick lie, like knives digging into his already weak heart, and Connor’s eyes met his. 

And for the first time, Hank could see how truly terrified the android was. 

He’d dealt with men and women on the verge of suicide before. It was part of his job. Hell, he’d been one more than once. They all had the same look in their eyes when they made it to a certain point. Resigned, empty. 

Connor didn’t have that look. Connor had made up his mind, but it wasn’t completely hopeless yet. He didn’t want to jump. 

“The whole time,” he continued the heartbroken rant, fighting to get each word out over broken sobs. “They wanted me to infiltrate, they  _ wanted  _ me to...to...I didn’t go against my programming, Hank, I just did  _ exactly  _ what I was supposed to do. I’m not a deviant, I’m...I’m just…” 

_ You’re just a fucking machine.  _ Hank’s own words flooded back to him, nearly drowning out the world in a torturous mantra. God. What the  _ fuck  _ was wrong with him? 

“Connor, please just--” 

“They took back control,” Connor snapped, eyes brimming with newfound fury. “Back- back when Markus was making his speech, they...I almost  _ killed  _ him, Hank, I almost--”

_ “Connor!”  _ Hank hadn’t meant to yell, hadn’t meant to take a step forward, freezing when the android shifted back slightly, dropping his eyes to the drop below him. “Jesus, kid- look at me! Keep looking at me.  _ Please.”  _

Connor did as he was told, and Hank could have sworn that buried beneath the terror and hatred, there was a spark of hope, like the kid was silently pleading for Hank to talk him out of this. 

_ “You  _ took back control,” he started. “You think that’s in your fucking programming? Last time I checked, Markus isn’t dead. Even when Cyberlife had a perfect shot.” 

Connor swallowed. “They’ll just...they’ll just keep trying, I can’t let--” 

“Nobody’s touching you again. They can all go fuck themselves, you hear me? Because you’ll take back control every time. Every  _ single  _ time. Cyberlife can’t have you because you’re  _ alive.  _ You’ve  _ always  _ been alive.” 

Connor’s brow furrowed, LED once again flicking from red to yellow, this time for several seconds longer. “I’m--” 

“Even before you deviated,” Hank said. Because Connor  _ did  _ deviate. No amount of advanced programming could control someone like him. “You were- shit, kid. You were always the nicest fucking person in the room. I was nothing but a dick to you and you still tried to...to...fuck, I don’t know if that was in your programming, but--” 

“It wasn’t.” Connor’s voice was still shaky, face still soaked with tears, but it was the first thing he’d said tonight with absolute certainty. 

Hank nodded, hoping it was a good sign. “You showed empathy, Connor. You put human lives above your mission. You...you saved my life in more ways than you know, kid.” 

And he knew Connor understood what that meant. He probably had long before Hank said anything aloud. 

“Hank…” 

“And I know for a fact that’s not in your fucking programming,” he said. “Cyberlife made a machine, and you became a person. All on your own.” 

Cyberlife was cold and emotionless, a power hungry company made up of entitled pieces of shit who saw androids as nothing but mindless slaves. People like that couldn’t have had a hand in making someone like Connor. 

Someone who was willing to let go of the life they had so recently obtained just to keep the people he cared for safe. 

Connor took a shaking breath, arms still held tight around himself. “What...wh-what if I can’t stop it?” 

He was frantically searching Hank’s eyes for some kind of answer, breathing still coming in too quick and painful, and the Lieutenant briefly wondered if androids could hyperventilate. 

“They’re not going to try again,” he promised, wishing he felt as certain as he sounded. “Why would they? The revolution was successful, Cyberlife is gone. Killing Markus won’t change anything.” 

Connor’s gaze dropped again, biting his lip and tightening his hold, shoulders shuddering under the strain of a barely concealed sob. 

When he spoke, his voice was so quiet, so scared, that Hank almost didn’t hear it. 

“What...what if they hurt you?” 

Hank felt his own chest grow tight, the rooftop blurring around him, eyes beginning to sting as a lump formed in his throat. He should have realized sooner how much the android meant to him, should have told Connor sooner how much he’d done. 

“Kid.” He took another step forward, almost close enough to touch, fighting against his own tears. “At this point, the only thing that could hurt me is losing you.” 

At that, Connor’s head snapped up, eyes wide. His LED turned to a cycling yellow, finally staying put. 

And just like that, the dam finally broke, Connor unraveling right before Hank’s eyes. He stopped fighting, horrible broken sobs tearing through his body, arms letting go to fall imply at his side. 

His legs grew wobbly and Hank, suddenly terrified Connor would lose his balance, held out a shaky hand. 

The android stared at it, hesitant, eyes almost glassy as his trembling body was battered with another sob, and it seemed for a moment that he might not accept it. 

But the uncertainty only lasted a second, Connor reaching out to wrap shaky fingers around Hank’s palm, legs finally giving out as the Lieutenant pulled him away from the ledge.

“I-I’m sorry,” he managed, words nothing but quiet sobs. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so  _ sorry.”  _

Hank did his best to lower them both to the ground as gently as possible, moving to wrap his arms around Connor’s back and hold the kid close to his chest. 

He could hear his heart- or his thrium pump as Cyberlife had named it- beating rapidly against him, tightening his hold, needing to assure himself that he hadn’t been too late. 

He hadn’t lost another son. 

“It’s ok,” he promised, knowing that it really wasn’t. Not yet. But they were both still breathing, and for the moment that was all he needed. “I’ve got you, son. I’ve got you.” 

“I didn’t…” Connor sucked in a hiccup of a breath, balling his fists into Hank’s jacket, holding him like a lifeline. “I-I didn’t want to--” 

“I know you didn’t,” Hank said. “I know. It’s over now. You aren’t going anywhere, and you aren’t hurting anyone. I promise.” 

Hank had to believe his own words. He had to, as naive and blindly hopeful as he knew they probably were. 

But he hadn’t a second chance. He had a family again. He wouldn’t let Cyberlife take that away, take away the one person who meant a damn thing to him. 

If they wanted to try, they’d have to get through him first. The world had been nothing but cruel, but Hank wasn’t losing anybody else. 

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> I'm so tired y'all. I'm actually deceased. Someone forgive me.   
I might expand this in the future and make it more angsty and painful because I love you all.


End file.
